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At his words, the fight left Naari, even if her body remained locked with tension, her eyes wild. But then she came back to herself enough to glance around, confusion shifting across her features.

“Are we at Silverthorn?” she asked, taking in the rows of empty infirmary beds.

Kiva, still on the ground, looked at Jaren and demanded, “Did you follow me here?”

“Of course I did,” he said instantly. “Do you really think I trust you to wander around the base alone at night?”

“Base?” Naari asked. “What base?”

But Kiva didn’t hear Jaren’s reply over her sudden hurt. It was irrational to be so upset by his words, given everything. But the pain she felt couldn’t be denied.

“What the hell is going on in here?” came Caldon’s voice from the entrance to the infirmary. He squinted through the dark and strode quickly toward them. “The racket you’re making is waking half the —”

He broke off when he was close enough to see them more clearly, Jaren still restraining the no longer comatose Naari, Kiva tangled in fabric on the floor.

“Ah,” he said. “Never mind.” He moved straight to Kiva and pulled her up to her feet, before turning to the guard, relief clear on his face. “Welcome back, Naari.”

“Back?” Her tone was threatening as she growled, “Someone had better start talking, or I’ll —”

Jaren said something to her then, too low for Kiva to hear, before he released his hold and began to lead her from the infirmary.

Unlike earlier that day with Tipp, this time he did look back, his eyes meeting Kiva’s.

“Thank you,” he said, his gratitude quiet but sincere.

Despite still feeling stung by his unyielding resentment, those two words — and the way he said them — meant everything to Kiva.

“Nice work, Sunshine,” Caldon murmured as Jaren and Naari disappeared out the door. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into a side hug. “I know this is hard. But it’ll get better. I promise.”

The next morning, it became clear that Caldon’s promise wouldn’t be coming true anytime soon.

As planned, their group rose early to set out for Jiirva, ten of them in total: Jaren, Caldon, Naari, Tipp, Cresta, Torell, Galdric, and Ashlyn, along with the eerily quiet Eidran, and then Kiva herself. Ashlyn had frowned when she’d arrived to see them all mounted on Stoneforge horses, declaring that if they wanted to avoid attention, they needed to cull the group. But Tipp refused to leave Jaren and Caldon, and Ashlyn herself still refused to let Torell and Cresta out of her sight. Naari, now aware of everything that had happened since the masquerade, was glued to Jaren’s side, Galdric was needed to speed up their travel time, and Kiva was the only one who could use the Hand once they had all four rings. After wasting precious minutes arguing about it, Ashlyn had compromised by saying the group would split up at each destination — half going for the rings, and half going with Eidran to the anomaly communities.

She didn’t say who would be in each group, but everyone agreed, and they finally began their journey.

With Jiirva’s capital city, Yirin, sitting at the northwest tip of Wenderall, the plan was to cross into Mirraven before cutting directly into Caramor, aiming to make it before the injured Prince Voshell sent word to close the borders. When they were near enough to their destination, Galdric would windfunnel them the rest of the way, but it would stillrequire a week on horseback before they reached that point. Kiva wasn’t thrilled by that, and not just because her dappled gray mount, Zephyr, seemed to like her about as much as Jaren, Naari, and Tipp did.

“They have a reason to hate me,” she muttered to the gelding as he angled his neck and tried to take a chunk out of her leg. “I gave you an apple, you miserable beast.”

Aside from her nipping horse, the first few hours of riding weren’t awful. The temperature was mild, the sky was clear, and there was a general feeling of anticipation in the air. Tipp was bouncing around on the pony Eidran had found him in the military stables, deliriously excited about their adventure — at least until Kiva tried to approach him, at which point he shut down all emotion. He still hadn’t said anything to her, and every time she moved Zephyr close, he kicked his pony forward and acted like she didn’t exist.

Like Tipp, Jaren and Naari were also giving Kiva the cold shoulder, which, while expected, still made for an uncomfortable ride. Caldon tried to keep her spirits high, but he was dealing with his own demons, being so close to his sister, and once they crossed into Mirraven, he rode ahead with Cresta to scout for patrolling Gray Guards.

“Three years later, and he still can’t stand to be near me,” Ashlyn said morosely, riding at Kiva’s side. “It’s not likeIkilled our parents.”

Kiva wanted to comfort the princess, but the only advice she had was what everyone kept telling her: “Just give him time.”

The hours continued to pass, with their group maintaining a good travel speed. After a quick break for lunch, Kiva found herself riding beside Torell, and while she was aware that their privacy was limited, she was worried enough about how quiet and introspective he’d been all day that she asked, “Everything all right?”

His gaze flicked to her and away again, before he gave a terse nod.

It was obvious he didn’t want to talk, but Kiva was alarmed by the serious set of his features, and the dull, pained look in his emerald eyes.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she tried, stopping Zephyr from snapping his teeth at Tor’s horse. “I know you didn’t have a choice, but —”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Tor said, his face softening as he glanced at her again, but his eyes remained haunted.

She nudged her mount closer and lowered her voice to say, “You can talk to me, Tor. I know something is upsetting you.” She took a risk and guessed, “If it’s about Zuleeka —”